They paved Paradise, and put in a parking lot

I laugh at people who lose their cars

     And I don't mean repossessed.  That is not funny.  (Well, it could be if you really don't like your neighbor because he always parks in your space.)
    I mean when people park their cars and can't remember where they parked.
     When you go to O'Hara Airport, you park in levels that are themed.  Go Cubs Go might be one level, Bear Down Chicago Bears another (although there is talk of moving them to the basement) as well as tunes for the Hawks and Sox.  By remembering the song, you remember the level.  Easy Squeasy!
     One time we ran into a friend of ours, Chris, who had lost her car in the Sullivan's parking lot.  She just could not find it.  Walked up and down a couple of aisles until she remembered she was driving her husband's car, not hers.
     And one time we went to Philadelphia and parked in a city garage.  When we went back later, we could not find the car.  Someone was convinced our Ford station wagon had been stolen.  I kept saying, "We came in the other side," but to no avail.  Someone was convinced the bad people of the city of Brotherly Love took our car.
     When we found it on the other side of the garage, someone did become calm again.  Although I did get a little upset two days later when I discovered we no longer had a front license plate....but that's another story.  I think the Illinois plate was so beautiful, a collector had to have it.
     You see those people, wandering up one lane and down another.  Admit it, you laugh.  I laugh.  We all laugh.
     But it wasn't so funny today.
I parked at Oakbrook on the way back from the zoo.  Parked right by Crate and Barrel and Pottery Barn.  As a matter of fact, I cut through those stores to get to the Apple store.
     When I came back, I could not find the car.  Up one lane, down another.  Up one lane, down another.  I hit the panic button.  Nothing.  Met another couple (much younger, so it happens at every age) who laughed when I said I could not find my car.  They kept laughing until they discovered they were in the wrong place.
     Now there are three of us wandering around.
     It was like Moses leading the Christians out of Christmas land.
     No exaggeration, I looked for 15 minutes.
     At some point, an ugly little thought creeps into your head that perhaps someone did steal your car.

     I finally found it, three rows over from where I thought it was.  

    All is well that ends well, but I will be paying more attention to lane numbers when I park again.

    After all, I can only be a laughing stock so many times before it gets boring.